


Any Chance At All

by anecdotalist



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: (that scene in the movie), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Newt POV, Not Beta Read, Post-The Death Cure, Stream of Consciousness, Suicide Attempt, The Death Cure Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, because i like to think that newt not only calls him that but thinks of him as tommy :), excessive use of 'tommy'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anecdotalist/pseuds/anecdotalist
Summary: Newt wasn’t immune. He wasn’t immune and the proof of it was glaringly obvious in the ugly mark on his arm, the black spreading through his veins, and the burning pain of infection. He wasn’t immune but it didn’t matter, because they had a chance to save Minho now and he wasn’t going to jeopardize the mission. He wasn’t going to not follow Tommy straight into hell.





	Any Chance At All

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the movie last weekend and Newt's death hit me so hard, you guys. Shoutout to everyone who's writing fix-its! I read a bunch of them and was really planning on just reading fics but I had this idea stuck in my head, so I decided to write one too. Because Newt deserved better and he should have alllll the fix-its. 
> 
> I tried to tag for everything that I think needed to be tagged for and I think I got the big things but let me know if there's anything I missed.
> 
> Disclaimer: I've only seen the movies and read two of the books and tbh, I'm not sure when or if I'm gonna read the book version of TDC because I don't know if I can go through Newt's death again.
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

It was a relief to tell Tommy, finally. To not be able to hide it anymore, that he was infected. It was the one selfish thing he allowed himself in this situation—the gratitude that someone else knew what was happening. He didn’t want to take any attention away from rescuing Minho, but he couldn’t help but be glad that at least Tommy knew. That he didn’t have to keep pretending that everything was fine and they were all going to live through this.

But he couldn’t stand the stricken look in Tommy’s eyes, that bleakness that contrasted so sharply with his determined words: “We can fix this, Newt.”

As if it was that simple. As if a powerful, over-resourced organization hadn’t been spending years torturing them in a vain attempt at finding a cure.

Newt was just grateful that Tommy was immune. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, proud that his voice held steady, firm. “This is about Minho. He needs us. So if there is even the slightest chance that we can save him, that we can get him out of there, we have to take it.” He looked at Tommy, willed him to understand. Teresa had made her choice; she wasn’t one of them anymore. “No matter the cost.”

Tommy swallowed and blinked hard.

Newt thought for a second that he was going to keep arguing and hoped he wouldn’t; the infection made his temper quick like dry wood catching fire from a spark. He didn’t know which spark would be the next to set the fire and, even more frighteningly, he didn’t know if he’d be able to put out the next fire.

“Okay,” Tommy murmured reluctantly, “Okay.”

Something told Newt Tommy wasn’t giving up that easily, but he couldn’t spare the energy to worry about that. The most important thing right now was that they get Minho back safe and sound. No one should be left in WCKD’s clutches. But he was particularly determined to get Minho out; Minho was family.

And, if he couldn’t be there with them in the safe haven, he wanted them to have each other—Tommy, Minho, Frypan, and even Gally, miraculously back from the dead as he was.

They went back inside to continue making plans. The rest of the day passed in a haze. Or was it two days? Three? It was taking more and more of his energy to ignore the burning pain in his arm and stay focused on what was in front of him.

Schematics of the city.

Food.

Sleep. Or rather, the time for sleep. The fact that the others slept around him.

Reciting the names of all the Gladers they’d lost. Etching them into his mind as if they could form a wall to hold back the Flare.

Writing the letter to Tommy. All the things he ever wanted to say to him but never found the time or courage to do so.

Food.

Teresa. Who agreed to help them—because of Tommy, Newt thought, watching her watch him. But he couldn’t blame her. He would do anything for Tommy too.

Schematics of WCKD’s building.

Weapons.

Tommy.

Tommy watched him a lot, it felt like. Except when he was talking to Teresa.

Newt caught himself rubbing at his arm and forced himself to stop. This mission was critical. He had to keep his wits about him, for Minho. For Tommy. For Frypan and Gally. He didn’t know if Tommy had told them, but they had to be suspecting that something was wrong, after his outburst the day before. Or earlier this day? He was losing track of time. It couldn’t have been that long, though. Nobody survived long with the Flare.

They marched openly into the city this time, in the guises of soldiers. Teresa led them into WCKD and that nobody questioned the presence of two guards escorting her spoke to her status among the organization. Status that she no doubt gained by betraying them, Newt thought bitterly.

Gally found his own way in and joined up with their group as they passed by a garage. He made them pause in the stairs while he fiddled with an electrical box.

Newt took the opportunity to lean against the wall and breathe. His heart was pounding and he felt flushed, like he had a fever. He didn’t dare raise a hand to check. He could feel Teresa watching him and felt a wave of impotent anger. She was sharp; she’d figure out what was going on. She would gloat, that she was immune and he wasn’t, that she would still be around for Tommy after he was gone. No, no she wouldn’t. Newt shook his head, as if he could shake out all those thoughts that weren’t _him_.

They kept going. They found the others, the vault with the serum. But no Minho. Minho had been taken to one of the medical labs. Newt cursed the setback.

Tommy wanted him to stay with Gally, to wait for the serum.

“I’m going with you!” Newt insisted. He needed to see Minho again, make sure for himself that the other boy was safe. They started this together, him, Tommy, and Minho. They were going to finish this together. He was determined. It was the only thing keeping him together.

Tommy’s eyes were pinched with worry, but Gally made the decision for them, telling them to go, and Tommy hesitated over arguing with Newt about his infection here in front of everyone.

So they kept going. Teresa kept trying to convince Tommy to stay in WCKD. She even dangled a cure for him in front of Tommy.

Newt snarled inwardly. “She’s lying, Tommy. Don’t listen to her.” There was no cure. There would probably never be a cure. But she wanted Tommy to stay with her, and Newt could understand that.

And then she saved them from Janson, triggering a bullet-proof glass door to close so that they could escape. He didn’t know what to make of her.

He pushed all thoughts of her aside. They needed to find Minho. Everyone in the building knew they were here now, they were going to be coming for them. They had to get to Minho.

He and Tommy worked well together; they’d had plenty of opportunities in the past six months to learn how each other thought, see what each other would do, and figure out how to best watch each other’s back.

And Minho, it turned out, didn’t quite need to be rescued anyway.

Newt laughed, feeling relief flood through him. The three of them spared a few precious seconds for a hug.

Minho looked...tired. Malnourished, probably. Drugged, possibly. And he doubted that WCKD let him do much exercising. But they only had to make it out of the city. If they could even make it out of the building. If they couldn’t, then it didn’t even matter how out of shape Minho might be.

Though at least if they were still in the building when he became a Crank, WCKD’s security could take him down before he hurt his friends. But he stopped that line of thought. He wasn’t there yet; all they had to do was meet up with Gally and Brenda, who would have the serum. He hoped they got out safely.

He could hold on for a little longer.

Tommy was the one who came up with a plan for them to get out: jump out of the window and into a pool.

Newt almost laughed. Of course Tommy would come up with a plan like that. But then the door burst open and they were out of time. They ran and jumped.

They met up with Gally in the plaza, but not Brenda. Newt bit back his disappointment, and his worry.

Minho watched him with worried eyes as he hunched down by a low wall and caught his breath. The water had felt exceptionally cold to his heated skin and he felt like he was shivering to death. Minho went over to where Gally and Tommy were conferring and asked in what he probably thought was a low voice: “How long has he been like that?”

Instead of answering, Tommy came over and helped Newt stand, draping one of his arms around his shoulder and wrapping his own arm around Newt’s waist. “He’s gonna be fine,” Tommy called back to them. Newt didn’t have it in him to contradict him.

They stumbled through the city and it was more of a chaotic mess than they had expected. Lawrence’s people must have finally openly rebelled. There were shots being fired and explosions going off all down the street. They had to detour when they were cut off from their preferred exit tunnel.

Minho started helping Tommy carry him; Gally provided cover fire.

“Leave me,” Newt begged. He was slowing them down. He was going to get them all killed.

Nobody answered him. He cursed their loyalty. If he could carry his own weight, he’d be tempted to run into the middle of one of the conflicts. If he got shot, his friends wouldn’t have to risk their lives for him.

They huddled in a small alley. Tommy radioed Brenda and she, thankfully, answered. So at least she had gotten out safely with the others. They made arrangements to get to a secondary exit point, a few blocks away but with a big enough space for the Berg to land.

“Just go,” Newt tried again. The noise around him and in his head made it hard for him to think, but he knew this: he couldn’t hold on much longer and it wouldn’t be worth it if the others all died because they were waiting for him. “Leave me here. I’m not going to make it.”

He didn’t know if they answered him this time; he was finding it hard to stay present. There was a faint red haze threatening to color his entire visual field.

“Minho, you have to go,” he heard Tommy say, wildly. “Run as fast as you can, meet Brenda at the Berg. Bring back some serum.”

Minho must have looked hesitant or reluctant, because Gally chimed in. “Yeah, go. I’ll cover you.”

Then Minho was in front of him. “Newt,” he said, eyes beseeching. “Newt, just hang on, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Newt blinked hard, tried to focus on Minho’s familiar face, trying to commit it to the last vestiges of his memory. Minho, his friend, his brother, his fellow Glader. Keeper of the Runners. Brave. Kind. Loyal. “Minho,” Newt said, willing his gratefulness into his words, “ _thank you_.” He hoped Minho understood that he wasn’t thanking him for this, for being willing to run into a war zone and come back with the serum. He was thanking him for always being there, for being his friend.

Minho blinked back tears and then was gone. Newt watched him and Gally until they were swallowed up by the dust and cloud generated by falling debris. The red tint was coming back, getting stronger.

“Newt! Newt!”

Tommy’s voice brought him back.

“Newt, stay with me. You’ll be okay.”

Tommy. There was something he was supposed to remember about Tommy. No, for Tommy. Something important. Something he’d been working on the past couple of nights….

The letter. He had to give Tommy the letter.

He reached up clumsily and found the cord he’d tied around his neck, looped around a small cylindrical container. He pulled it off and held it out, only noticing then the black blood on his hand. “Take this,” he said. Tommy looked surprised and didn’t move. “Please Tommy. Please. Take it.” He pushed it at Tommy insistently. He needed Tommy to take it, and quickly, before he forgot again.

Tommy finally closed his hand around the necklace and Newt trusted that he put it in a secure place; he was having trouble seeing clearly through the red film over his eyes. He squinted, tried to blink away the red, tried to focus. He didn’t _have_ to see Tommy’s face—he already had it memorized: the curve of his lips, the arch of his nose, the sparkle in his eyes—but he wanted to. One last time.

He couldn’t though, as much as he tried. He gave it up and sank back against the wall, feeling weary and resigned. Even this was being taken from him.

He was morbidly glad that Tommy was here with him at the end. But he also wished he wouldn’t see him like this; he wanted Tommy to remember him as he had been.

“We can’t stay here,” Tommy suddenly said, and he was there in front of Newt again. If he had the energy, he would have startled. “Come on, Newt, I need you to give me everything you’ve got. We have to move.”

Newt tried. He didn’t think he could ever deny Tommy anything. He gathered his legs under him, leaned his weight against Tommy and stumbled along as best he could. If he could spare a breath, he’d laugh. For months, he’d wondered what it would be like to be this close to Tommy. Fantasized about it, even. And now he was plastered to Tommy’s side and not only was he not able to appreciate it but it was putting Tommy’s life at risk. It was the epitome of irony and tragedy, and it summed up his life as far as he could remember perfectly.

They only made it across the street and up some steps before he completely collapsed.

He was distantly aware of Tommy saying something, pulling at him, but the roaring in his ears and the burning pain all over his body pulled at his attention.

And then he wasn’t conscious of anything at all.

When he became aware again, he found himself standing up and facing Tommy.

Only it wasn’t Tommy, it was a bright spark that hurt to look at.

The rest of the world was red, except for that one bright spot.

All he felt was pain. Fear. Anger.

That spot.

That spot was to blame.

That spot was the key.

That spot...was Tommy.

He had a moment of horror and then he was tackling the other boy.

He wrestled with himself even as he wrestled with Tommy.

He couldn’t….

He couldn’t….

He COULDN’T _HURT_ **_TOMMY_**.

He gasped for air.

He was straddling Tommy, who was laying on his back on the floor, looking terrified.

He wanted to throw up. He’d hurt Tommy. He’d tried to _kill_ Tommy. It wasn’t something he ever thought himself capable of doing. And worse, he’d scared Tommy.

He had to do something. Had to keep Tommy safe from him.

He grabbed Tommy’s gun with shaking hands. Clicked the safety off. Cocked it.

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Newt—”

He brought the gun up to his temple. One shot and Tommy would be safe. He steadied his hand and—

Tommy knocked the gun out of his hand with a screamed, “No!”

There was a flurry of movement and Newt fell back.

He landed hard on the ground and nearly lost control again from the pain.

He could see the gun but it was too far away. He couldn’t coordinate his limbs enough to get up and run for it.

Then he remembered: he had a knife strapped to his thigh. He reached for it.

A heavy weight landed on his back and the breath whooshed out of him.

He bucked but the weight was too solid.

He snarled.

He twisted. Tried to kick out.

Something closed around his left wrist. The weight pressed down even more.

He scrabbled for his knife. His fingers brushed over the hilt briefly before they were slapped away.

His hand scraped painfully against the concrete.

“Newt, please! Please stop. Don’t.” The voice was hoarse and desperate, shouted into his ear. “It’s me, Thomas. Newt, _please_. Come back.”

It was Tommy.

Tommy was the one on top of him, holding him down, pinning his arm to the floor.

Tommy was the one shouting at him, begging him to stop, to hear him.

Newt forced himself to still, to stop fighting Tommy.

His breath wheezed raggedly in and out.

“Tommy?” he rasped out. His throat felt raw from all the screaming.

“Newt! Thank god.” Tommy sounded endlessly relieved. “Stay with me, okay? I thought you were gone for a moment there.”

“I...I was. I _am._ ” He gulped in air, pressed his fevered cheek down against the cool ground, looked out into red clouds. “Tommy, you have to kill me. Please, Tommy. Before I hurt you.”

“What? No, no, I can’t. Newt, you have to hold on. We’re so close. We’ve got the cure.”

Tommy didn’t get it. He was so _stubborn_. Newt growled, bit out, “ _Kill me_. Tommy, you have to, I—” he broke off with a gasp of pain. His hands clenched and he rubbed them hard against the floor, trying to focus on that sensation instead of the fire burning up his heart and lungs.

“Newt?” Tommy whispered, sounding worried.

“Tommy, what are you doing? At least go, get away from here. Leave me. Before I can’t hold on anymore and try to hurt you again.” He was exhausted, it was taking nearly everything he had to keep himself still, to make his words audible.

“You can’t hurt me,” Tommy said, sounding so very close to him. “I’m immune, remember?”

“I can still hurt you, you bloody shank.”

Tommy chuckled, though it sounded forced. “There we go. Now you’re sounding like yourself.”

Then Newt felt his knife being pulled out of his thigh sheath. He sucked in a shaky breath. Maybe Tommy finally understood that there was no coming back for him.

“It’s too late for me, Tommy,” he said encouragingly. “Just do it. I won’t even feel it.”

But then he heard something clatter and scrape against the floor far from them and he didn’t have to look to know that it was the knife. He moaned in anguish. His fingers twitched helplessly.

Tommy had thrown away his only chance to defend himself.

Newt closed his eyes.

Tommy linked their hands together, his own healthy one with Newt’s infected one. Newt’s hand clenched in a spasm.

“I am _not_ killing you, Newt,” he said fiercely. “You’re going to be okay. Didn’t you hear Teresa?” Newt bit back a growl at the name but he was too exhausted to do more than tremble. “There _is_ a cure. It’s my blood. My blood can cure you. Newt, you just have to hold on. Just a little longer. Okay? Please. _Please_.”

“...okay,” Newt whispered, though he didn’t have much hope of being able to keep this promise. He’d do anything Tommy asked of him but he wasn’t sure he had enough left in him to do it this time.

He willed himself to go through his new ritual. He thought back to when he first woke up in the Glade. Ran through the names of all the boys who were there, in the order that they had arrived. Then he went through and listed them in the order that they had died.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asked when he got to ‘Alby.’

Newt paused. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud. “Remembering,” he finally said.

Tommy nodded against him. “Tell me?”

So he did. He recounted the days in the Glade, from the first terror to the last, sunrises and sunsets, nights in the homestead, listening to the monsters in the maze and wondering what was out there. He told Tommy about the days before he had arrived, about Frypan’s early attempts at cooking, Alby becoming their leader. He rambled, wandering from one story to another as the memories surfaced.

The pain ebbed and flowed in waves; his hands closed into fists when it came. Tommy’s breath hitched when Newt squeezed his hand so painfully he must have nearly broken it. But he didn’t say anything. He just squeezed back.

He opened his eyes and the world seemed darker, the red tint now maroon and opaque.

“Tommy,” he gasped. “I can’t—”

“You can, Newt. You can.”

But the next wave of pain was coming on stronger and more intense than ever. His whole body seized up. He bit down hard to hold back a scream and the burst of sickly sweet wetness told him that he’d bitten through his lip.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in one breath after another, rapid and short. An indeterminable amount of time passed.

He came out of it when he felt a sharp prick on his arm and an icy sensation spreading through his body. It felt different from the pain he’d felt earlier. It _hurt_. He screamed and felt his muscles seizing up again. Tommy’s hands squeezed his tightly.

When the sharpness of the pain dulled, he panted. “What—?” he murmured. He felt like he was miles away, floating in the air. He still couldn’t see anything except red.

“It’s Brenda. Brenda’s here. She just injected you with the serum. You’re going to be okay,” Tommy said in a rush.

Newt wondered if he was trying to convince him or himself. He didn’t bother arguing anymore. Either the serum was going to work or it wasn’t. Even if it did, it was only a temporary solution; something to buy them time.

“How are you feeling?” Tommy asked tentatively.

“Like shit,” Newt scoffed tiredly.

“If I get off of you, do you think you’ll Crank out?”

Newt shrugged as much as he was able. “Don’t know, mate.” But with every blink, the red was starting to fade. His muscles were gradually relaxing. His breath was coming in easier. “I think I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. Then he gingerly rolled off of Newt, though he kept one hand on his shoulder. “Okay?” he asked.

Newt nodded. “Yeah.” He raised himself up enough to look over at Brenda. “Thank you.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “‘Course.” Then she said, “Minho and Gally were right behind me. They should be here any minute.”

Tommy nodded and made to stand. “Okay, good. Stay with Newt,” he said to Brenda. “Get him to the Berg.”

“Where are _you_ going?” Brenda crossed her arms.

“Tommy,” Newt whispered, because he _knew_. “Don’t. It’s a trap.”

Tommy knelt and squeezed his shoulder. “I have to. We got Minho out. We saved him. Now _you_ need us. And if there’s a chance, any chance at all, that we can save you, I have to take it. You’d do the same for me. You did do the same for Minho.”

Newt blinked away tears. He shook his head but he could see in Tommy’s eyes that he was going to do this, no matter what. And Newt...Newt couldn’t follow this time. “Be careful, Tommy. Come back.”

“I will,” Tommy said. Then he was gone, feet pounding the pavement, the sound seeming to echo all around them.

Only it wasn’t an echo; it was Minho and Gally running up from behind. They fell down next to Newt, patting him frantically and shouting.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” he said, feeling a surge of hope and desperation. “Tommy...Thomas just left. He went back to—” he choked on the words “—to WCKD. For me. He’s going to die. They’re going to kill him.” He couldn’t get rid of that feeling, that sick certainty that something was going to go horribly wrong.

There was a curse and then Gally said, “I’ll go after the shuckface.”

Newt felt intense gratitude for him as he watched him go, and then anger at himself. He shouldn’t be putting his friends in this situation.

“Come on,” Minho said, bending down and grabbing at him. “We should go. The Berg’s not too far.”

Brenda stooped and between the two of them, they got Newt upright. His legs nearly gave out on him and his arms shook from exhaustion.

They couldn’t move very fast; Newt may not have been on the verge of Cranking out now but he was completely physically drained. But miracle of miracles, everyone they saw was too busy shooting at each other to pay them much attention.

It felt like hours before they reached the Berg. The whole time, he felt a pressure pounding at him, sticking in his throat. They were running out of time. Countless scenarios went through his head about what dangers Tommy could have encountered on his way to WCKD, in WCKD; whether or not Gally reached him in time, if Gally was also safe.

He was pleased and surprised to see Jorge and Vince in the Berg. But he had to hold himself back from snapping at them to go, go, go. They were moving as fast as they could, he already knew.

Minho helped him limp over to a bench and lay down. Brenda rummaged through a bag and came back with another injection of serum. She held it up to him questioningly but he shook his head; he felt okay for now. There was no need to use up another serum before they had to.

He felt himself drifting off once the Berg rose into the air. He tried to cling to alertness but no matter how hard he tried, he was losing the battle to darkness. It was the soothing black of normal unconsciousness and not the red of the Flare, though, which was a relief.

“There they are!”

“Thomas! Gally!”

“Jorge, get closer so they can jump!”

Newt started awake, fighting against the heavy blanket of sleep that kept trying to drag him back down. He slit his eyes open and made out a group of people at the open bay doors of the Berg. There was a lot of shouting and movement being directed outside. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t move. His limbs felt like they were weighed down with lead.

“Thomas! Jump!” Brenda shouted.

“Tommy,” Newt whispered, as he realized what must be happening. Tommy was somewhere and they’d found him with the Berg. They must not be able to land for some reason. Tommy was...was he going to make it? Newt tried harder to _move_ , to get up so he could go help.

There was a thud and the Berg shook. Then another. Then a third.

“Go, Jorge!” Vince shouted and the Berg swerved.

“Tommy?” Newt rasped, louder. He turned onto his side, got his hands under him and pushed up.

Tommy appeared in front of him, as if he had heard him. “Newt! You’re okay. You _are_ okay, right?” He looked intently in Newt’s eyes, as if he was searching for signs of the Flare. He grasped his arms and before Newt knew it, he was lying down again. But this time, Tommy was kneeling next to the bench.

Newt drank in the sight of his face eagerly, lingering on his bright eyes. He didn’t think he was ever going to see him again without that red tint.

Tommy pulled out a cobalt blue vial and held it up. “We did it. I have the serum. I’m going to inject it, okay?”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll tell you everything later. I’m going to give you the serum, and then you should sleep. Okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just sleep. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yeah,” Newt repeated. “Yeah.” He let the fog of exhaustion pull him back under and barely even noticed the sting of the needle.

 

* * *

 

He woke to gentle rhythmic rocking and the unfamiliar soft feeling of cotton bedsheets and a thin mattress. There was sunlight streaming in from a small round window near the ceiling. He blinked up at the bottom of another bunk.

He sat up and felt...nothing. No body aches, no burning pain in his arm. He pushed his sleeve up and stared at the faint discoloration that was all that the Flare had left behind. His veins no longer stood out dark and swollen against his skin. If it wasn’t for that mark, he would have thought the past couple of days had been just a terrifying nightmare.

He took in the room and saw that it was small, sparsely decorated, with two sets of bunk beds lining the walls without the window or door. He stood and made his way to the window, standing up on his toes to look outside. He was surprised to see water, clear blue skies, the horizon. He grinned. They’d made it. They were on their way to the safe haven.

The door to the room creaked open and Tommy entered with a tray of food. He froze with his gaze on Newt’s empty bed, and then his head whipped around. He relaxed when he saw Newt standing by the window, and broke out in a wide grin.

“Newt! You’re awake, finally!” He leaned outside and announced, “Newt’s awake!” He left the door open when he came further into the room and handed him a bowl of porridge. “Here, eat this.”

Then he dropped the tray and threw his arms around him, nearly knocking the bowl out of his hands. Newt laughed and managed to hold the bowl away while he returned the hug one-handed. It felt good, having Tommy here, alive.

Minho ran into the room, whooping and hollering. He swiftly removed the bowl from him and set it aside, then threw his arms around the both of them.

Then Frypan and Gally came and joined the hug.

Then Jorge and Brenda.

Then Vince.

Then everyone, even people that Newt didn’t know, until the whole room was packed full of people talking and laughing and just being happy to be alive.

And through it all, Tommy clung to him and he clung to Tommy and if Tommy kept murmuring about how glad he was that Newt was alive and not a Crank and don’t he dare do that to him again, well, Newt wasn’t going to tell anyone.

“Alright, alright, everyone out!” Minho shouted. “Let’s move this outside. We’re gonna suffocate in here.” He herded everyone out of the room.

Tommy separated from him and he picked up the bowl of porridge again. They followed the group out of the room and up the stairs to the upper level. After they were all settled on the deck, Newt looked expectantly at Tommy and Minho. “So? Tell me what happened?”

He caught sight of someone standing alone on the other side of the ship that made his blood run cold. Teresa. Why was she here? Then he glanced at Tommy and remembered what he had accused him of when he couldn’t control the Flare anymore. It seemed that his infection-induced anger had a basis after all: Tommy did still care about her. Even after everything she had done to them, to Minho.

Tommy must have seen him notice her. He opened his mouth, then seemed to have second thoughts about what to say, and closed it. He shook his head a fraction and reached over to squeeze Newt’s knee.

Newt took a couple of steadying breaths and tamped down on the anger. The important thing was that Tommy was happy. He couldn’t expect him to have not saved her too if he had the chance; he would never have left her to die. He wouldn’t have killed her. That was who he was. That was one of the reasons Newt...loved him.

And he did love him. He could think that now, now that everything was behind them and they could start thinking about their future.

“What do you remember about...?” Tommy trailed off but Newt got what he was trying to ask.

He grimaced. “Pieces.” He didn’t want to rehash that here, in front of everyone while they were sitting under the sun on their way to safety. “Tell me about what happened after we separated.”

“I got to WCKD, and I found Ava,” Tommy recounted succinctly, voice flat. “I wanted to kill her. I had the gun on her. I asked her if it was true, that I could save you. She said that we could save everyone.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if she realized that the whole city was burning and that there wasn’t going to be anyone left to save. Anyway, Janson shot her. I don’t know why.”

“And then I shot Janson,” Gally said. “He was so shucking focused on Thomas that he didn’t even see me coming.”

“We found Teresa in one of the medical labs and I asked her if she was telling the truth, that I could save you.”

“I told her I’d kill her if she was lying,” Gally volunteered.

“She showed us what she had seen in her experiments, said that there’s something in my blood that actually kills the virus. I had her to make the serum for you”

“She wanted Thomas to stay with her, so they could save everyone,” Gally said.

“Gally!” Tommy said, exasperated. “Stop interrupting me.”

“What? Would you have told Newt that?” Gally asked challengingly.

“It wasn’t important.” Tommy leaned forward and caught Newt’s eyes. “It _didn’t_ matter. I wouldn’t have stayed.”

No, instead he brought her with them. But Newt just nodded.

Tommy seemed satisfied. He sat back and continued. “She had barely finished when they started bombing the building. We couldn’t get out through the ground exit, so we went up to the roof and luckily, the Berg came”

Newt frowned; what was their plan if the Berg hadn’t come?

“Yeah, we were thinking of trying to land on the roof and going into the building to look for you,” Brenda chimed in. “But then you guys showed up and it was just as well because we couldn’t have landed there anyway.”

“And then we jumped on board and flew here to meet up with the ship. They’d already set sail but Vince had taken the Berg to find us,” Tommy wrapped up.

He thought that there was probably more to the story, but he could understand Tommy not wanting to go through all the details now. He didn’t think he could listen to all of the details now anyway. So he didn’t push. “How long have we been at sea?”

“A few days. Vince thinks he remembers there being an island somewhere around here.”

Newt snorted. “That’s bloody detailed, that is. I hope Vince actually has more information than _that_ or we’re gonna be here till we run out of food and starve.”

Tommy chuckled. “So listen, you started about a dozen different stories back there, and didn’t finish a single one.”

“I did?” Newt asked, surprised.

Tommy nodded and licked his lips. “I thought maybe you could tell me them again? In full, this time.”

Newt furrowed his brows and darted a quick glance at Minho who gave him a thumbs up; Gally gave an exaggerated wink. The two of them turned and started ushering people away.

“Sure, Tommy,” he said and Tommy’s eyes lit up. Had he really been that curious to hear more about the Glade? “But you’ll have to remind me which ones they were. I don’t...have very clear memories of...you know.” His memories of attacking Tommy, though, were unfortunately clearer than he wished but he didn’t want to dwell on those right now.

Tommy launched into the beginning of a story and Newt listened, then picked up when he didn’t know the rest. By unspoken agreement, they stuck to just the good memories.

They stayed out on the deck until the sun set, ate the dinner that Frypan unobtrusively brought over to them, and finally turned in long after everyone else had.

Newt woke early the next morning and spent some time staring meditatively at the pre-dawn light coming into the room and listening to the familiar sounds of Tommy, Minho, and Frypan sleeping deeply. It felt almost surreal, to be here and to not have to worry about WCKD or Cranks anymore.

He slid out of bed and quietly left the room. He had loved seeing everyone the day before but it was a bit overwhelming and he wanted a few moments to gather himself before they all woke up. He made his way up the stairs and paused at the top, taking in the view and breathing in the salty ocean air.

He spotted Teresa at the back of the ship and sighed. But he couldn’t avoid her forever, especially not when they were on the same boat. Better to get it over with. He walked over and rested his hands on the railing, looking down at the waves being churned up in the wake of the ship. He was acutely aware of her next to him but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

They stood together in tense silence for several moments.

“I told Thomas that I did what I thought was right and that I’d do it again,” she said suddenly. “And I still think that.”

Newt’s hands clenched tightly around the railing.

“I’ve been thinking that...if we had gotten Thomas instead of Minho, we could have discovered the cure so much sooner. We could have saved so many people. All of this could have been prevented.”

Newt’s knuckles went white. He breathed harshly and forced his hands to relax.

“I tried to explain to Minho why we were doing what we were doing and how he was helping us find a cure for everyone. But he didn’t get it. I used to think that Thomas would have understood, would have seen that WCKD was only doing its best to try to save the greatest number of people. That he would have come around eventually. But I was wrong.”

Newt darted a look at her out of the corner of his eyes and saw that she wasn’t facing him either. She was looking out at the horizon they were leaving behind them.

“Do you know why I used you when I was trying to get his attention about the cure?”

He gritted his teeth and shook his head.

“Because you were his weakness. I knew he would have done anything to save you. He didn’t come back for me. He didn’t come back for WCKD’s cause. He came back to get what he needed to save _you_.”

Newt cleared his throat. “Why did you help him?”

“Believe it or not, Newt, I didn’t want you to die. Or turn into a Crank. I didn’t want any of you to die. I was just trying to find the cure.” She fell silent for a moment, and Newt let her have it. Then she said softly, “And besides, Thomas wanted it. He needs you.”

“And you couldn’t deny him anything.” Newt knew because, in this, they were the same.

“Neither can you.” Teresa said it confidently, like she knew too.

Newt didn’t bother to deny it. He shrugged and knew that she would take that as the admission that it was.

“We’re very similar in some ways,” she said, and finally looked at him. Newt turned his head as well, to return her solemn gaze. “We both love him. We both want him to be with us.” Newt arched a brow, but it wasn’t an affirmation or a denial. “But there’s a big difference. I betrayed his trust, and I hurt his friends. There’s no coming back from that.”

Newt nodded thoughtfully. “I tried to kill him,” he said, as if they were competing in a game of who had hurt Tommy more.

Teresa scoffed. “Like he’ll hold that against you. You were already Gone when that happened.”

Newt shook his head. Tommy might not hold it against him but he didn’t know if he would be able to forgive himself. He should have done something, stopped himself somehow, before it got to the point where Tommy got hurt.

There was a sudden clang from below deck, and then footsteps pounded up the stairs. “Newt? _Newt_!” Thomas sounded frantic with worry.

Without making a conscious decision about it, Newt found himself hurrying forward, drawn towards Tommy like he always had been ever since they’d met in the Glade. “Here, I’m here. What’s wrong, Tommy?”

Tommy spun around and clasped his shoulders, squeezing tightly. He sucked in a shaky breath; his eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Newt, thank god. I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Newt covered one of Tommy’s hands with his own and adopted a light tone. “Is that all? Bloody hell, mate, you probably woke the whole bloody ship.”

Tommy flushed.

“Come on, let’s go sit up front. The sun’s about to rise. I’ve always liked this time of day.”

Tommy looked curiously between him and Teresa, still standing where he’d left her, but he let Newt tug him over to the far side of the ship.

As they sat down on the deck, Tommy pulled out the corded necklace that he had given him. “Here, I was holding onto it for you until you woke up.”

Newt looked at him in surprise. “You didn’t read it?”

“Read what?”

He rolled his eyes and took the necklace, untying the small container and uncapping it.

“Oh,” Tommy said weakly. As Newt shook out the carefully rolled up letter, he added, “I would have figured it out eventually.”

“Sure, Tommy. You just keep telling yourself that.” But he smiled to take the sting out of the words, because he did know that Tommy would have figured it out, once he really looked at it.

He smoothed out the paper and held it between them, then cleared his throat and started reading. He could have recited this letter from heart, he’d spent so much time over it, re-reading it countless times to make sure it said what he wanted it to say, that the writing was legible, that it wasn’t missing anything. He’d left off three little words at the end, unable to decide if it would be kind or cruel to reveal the full depth of his feelings after he was already dead.

“Newt,” Tommy whispered wetly when he finished. His eyes shone with tears. “ _Newt_.”

“I wanted to make sure you knew. How much you meant to me. How much I valued what we had together.” He folded up the letter and slid it into a pocket. There was no need to keep it now—it held more bad memories than good—but he was reluctant to throw it out just yet.

“Newt, I’m going to do something. And if you don’t like it, I want you to just punch me. Or push me off the side of the ship or something. Okay?”

Newt turned and couldn’t help a small grin of bemusement. “Okay...?”

Tommy cupped his cheek with one hand, but before Newt could do more than register the unexpected but very welcome warmth, his lips landed on his, soft and gentle and chaste. It was more of a tentative question than a kiss.

“Oh,” Newt breathed against his lips, and answered in kind. He felt dizzy with the knowledge that Tommy felt the same way he did, that he still felt that way even after everything. He pulled back when he needed air but he was reluctant to break Tommy’s hold. Tommy’s eyes sparkled and he looked both delighted and stunned.

“Yeah! About damn time!”

Minho’s shout jolted them fully apart. Newt looked around wildly and caught sight of the land coming up in the distance. He gaped in astonishment. “We’re here! We made it!” He grinned widely at Tommy and then up at Minho who was smirking at them.

“Oh yeah, the island, too,” he said with a wink.

Newt flushed. Tommy linked their hands together. The three of them stayed there at the front of the ship, watching paradise get closer and closer.

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue and actions aren't exactly the same as in the movie because 1) it's from Newt's pov and he's a little out of it from the infection, and 2) I can't bring myself to go watch it again right now and my own memory is faulty, lmao.
> 
> I meant to have Teresa live through this (and she does, because I felt bad about saving Newt but not her) but I realized as I was editing this that she could easily have been a ghost that only Newt could see....like because he came so close to death or maybe as a side effect of the Flare, he's now able to see those who have died, and she's lingering here to watch over Thomas and the others? And Thomas keeps wondering why Newt's looking at that corner of the ship. Anyway, I just thought that was an interesting possibility and wanted to share. :)
> 
> What did you think? Feel free to come chat with me on [tumblr](http://likealeafonthewind.tumblr.com)! (I'm not very active in the fandom, though.)


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